


Of Mer and Men

by lisard



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Dragonborn DLC, Dragonborn has issues, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Interracial Relationship, Light Angst, Nord and Dunmer, Original Character(s), Pining, Post-Alduin, Slow Burn, Solstheim (Elder Scrolls), Teldryn Serious Mod, mention of suicide, possible racism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24045127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisard/pseuds/lisard
Summary: A couple of masked men pay the Dragonborn a visit not long after to defeat of Alduin, no doubt drawn by the extravagant tales of the Nord woman with the soul and Thu'um of a Dovah. The attempt on her life leads Beilis to follow the cultist's trail all the way to the island of Solstheim. In unfamiliar territory, Beilis seeks the aid of local spellsword, Teldryn Sero.
Relationships: Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Miraak, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Teldryn Sero
Kudos: 5





	Of Mer and Men

A ship to Solstheim was a day and a half trip. Beilis had never gone to the island before, no, but she wasn't going to let that discourage her. The attempt of her life implored her to search for answers, first of them being; who in the Nine Divines was this Miraak fellow? Beilis knew from the start that being Dragonborn wouldn't entirely be peaches and cream. There were plenty of folks that respected and raised her. Some that even feared her, though she'd yet to meet people of the latter. However, the last thing she expected was people actively wanting to _kill her_. Beilis sighed and pushed the thoughts aside for another time. She stood, now, on the deck of the Northern Maiden, her face hidden behind the thick fur of a hooded scarf. She awaited the attention of the captain, who was busy speaking with one of his deckhands. She squinted through the flurries of snow as the captain turned to face her finally. He seemed a bit startled.

"Oh, good afternoon. If you're looking to head to Solstheim, then I'm sorry. We won't be heading that way anymore," he told the woman, shaking some snow out of his locks. Beilis frowned at that, brow furrowing slightly.

"What? Why won't you go back?" she asked, trailing behind him as he walked past her to adjust some pulleys on the mast. He sighed, breath manifesting as vapor before being carried away by the wind. He hesitated before turning to face Beilis.

"It's complicated. Those people with the masks... they came aboard. I didn't like the looks of 'em. Next thing I knew, we were back here in Windhelm, and they were gone. That's not right; losing whole days like that!" he explained, seeming to get worked up by just recalling the events. He anxiously brushed his gloved hands on the front of his tunic. "Something strange has been happening on Solstheim for a while, but after this? No way. I'm not going back." His statement was final; Beilis could see the certainty in his eyes. She knitted her brow, watching the captain turn away from her again and try to distract himself.

Beilis stepped toward him. "Sir, as sorry as I am for your bad experience, you _are_ taking me to Solstheim," she declared. The man peered over his shoulder at her, lips pulled into a frown. He was a brow furrow away from a full glare, but Beilis held his gaze with ease. She'd stared down with the undead and deformed Falmer. This was nothing.

"Weren't you listening? I'm not going back there," he told her, fully facing her now.

"Sir. People are trying to kill me. I won't be taking no for an answer," Beilis snapped. The captain flinched, taking half a step back.

"H-Hold on, now. I'm just a simple sailor; I didn't want to get mixed up in any of this," he said. hands up in defense. He sighed, "I'll take you, but we're setting off immediately. Better hope you have everything," he warned her. He turned toward the crew and got them up and moving to prepare the ship. Beilis quirked a little smile. She moved out of the crew's way as they skittered about the ship. The captain, Gjalund, stood at the helm, gloved hands firmly gripping the wheel.

Beilis looked toward the Nord. "Thank you," she told him, speaking up over the mild commotion of the crew. Gjalund blinked at her before merely nodding. The Dragonborn got settled atop a nearby crate, a bit of tension in her body easing as she wasn't promptly ordered to not sit on it. She watched as the sails unfurled and billowed out to catch the wind. Chains and pulleys rattled as the ship lurched, pulling out of the harbor and into the icy channel. Beilis shrugged her knapsack off her shoulder rummaged through it. She acquired a bottle of mead and twisted the cork off. A little bit of alcohol wouldn't hurt. She was resilient to the cold anyways. However, when night fell, as did the temperatures - lower than they already were.

Beilis had begun to shiver at that point. She and the crew retreated below deck, away from frigid winds. Gjalund stayed at the helm, his presence required to keep the ship on course. A deckhand was sure to relieve him of his duty later in the night. There were only bedrolls to accommodate for the number of crew, but Beilis didn't mind. The woman found a cozy little spot against the wall of the cabin, slumping over and nesting her chin into her scarf. It wasn't _comfortably_ warm in the cabins, but it was much better than on the deck. The Dragonborn sighed into the fur of her scarf, warm breath meeting the material and fanning back across her face. Her eyelids grew heavy, soon falling over her eyes. Sleep was... bumpy. She woke up a few times during the night due to the rocking motions.

Beilis was later jerked awake as the ship lurched suddenly, making her jolt upright. The vessel swayed a few times before it returned to steadiness. The Nord woman stretched out her legs and got to her feet, carefully hobbling through the cabin and back up onto the deck. Yellow-hazel eyes darted around the surrounding sea, coming to rest on a large chunk of floating ice a ways behind the ship. They must have steered to avoid colliding with it. "Good morning, miss," one of the deckhands greeted her before stuffing a portion of bread into his mouth.

Beilis flashed a polite smile, "good morning." She untied the waterskin from her hip and removed the cap, gulping down a few mouthfuls. She swallowed a breath of air and exhaled, closing the waterskin and returning to her hip. She reclaimed a spot on the nearby crate, head tilted back as a cool breeze swept through her hair. The air smelled of salt, and it tingled the woman's senses. She opened her eyes and looked down at the knapsack in her lap before rifling through it again. Beilis pulled out a bundled up napkin, a few cheese wedges and an apple within. She plucked the apple up first and took a chunk out of it, turning back toward the seemingly endless ocean stretched out in every direction. There was no telling what time it was; it was somewhat light out, but the heavy clouds overhead hid the sun.

It was hours before anyone saw a trace of land. The clouds never lightened, but it did get brighter over time. After passing through a wall of fog, the dark shape of Solstheim could be spotted on the horizon. _Thank the gods, we're almost there,_ Beilis praised as a sigh escaped her. This journey certainly reminded her as to why she wasn't fond of traveling by boat. Being confined to a single space was torture. If there were at least some sights to see on the ocean, perhaps she would find enjoyment in it. Nothing but sky and sea. The woman crinkled her nose a bit and took another chuck out of the granny smith.

"By the way—" one of the deckhands spoke up, fishing a rolled up piece of parchment from his bag, "—you might want this. This is your first time to Solstheim, isn't it? It's not filled out all the way, but it's better than no map at all." He held the map out toward Beilis for her to take, which she did. She flashed the sailor a smile.

"Thank you," she said. The Nord turned and safely tucked the map away into her knapsack. She began munching on a cheese wedge and waited in silence for the voyage to end.

The ship took a wide left around the side of the island, the harbor coming into view just on the other side of the Bulwark. The deckhands hopped up and got to work on preparing to dock. The Northern Maiden coasted gently to the side of the dock, stopping just clear of the boardwalk. Sailors stepped off the ship, ropes in hand, and tied the vessel down. An older Dunmer marched along the dock and stopped just by the loading ramp of the ship. He locked eyes with the captain. "Gjalund! I was starting to wonder what happened to you," he stated. The sailor shifted awkwardly.

"We were, uh, delayed by bad weather," he fibbed. The Dark Elf seemed to accept his answer. He turned to leave the sailors be, but spotted Beilis. His crimson eyes pulled into a squint as he drew closer to her, watching her most intensely.

"I don't recognize you," he stated, eyes never moving away from her, "so I will assume this is your first visit to Raven Rock. State your intentions."

"I'm looking for someone by the name of Miraak. Do you know of him?" Beilis asked. As if she triggered a bitter memory, the Dunmer flinched at the name. He scratched his temple.

" _Mirrak_ ," he tested, "I... I am unsure. I know the name, but I can't quite place it." The older elf frowned and shook his head. "Just remember. Solstheim is sovereign territory of House Redoran. You're in Morrowind now. Not Skyrim. See that you abide by our laws," he warned the woman.

"I understand, sir," Beilis promised. The Dunmer seemed satisfied with her compliance, angling his head upward in a stuffy manner.

"Good. Now, any questions?" he asked a final time.

Beilis quirked a brow at him. "Do you _know_ Miraak?"

The mer flinched once again at the mention of the name. He took a half step back and rubbed the space between his eyes, racking his brain for an answer. "I... I don't think so. T-The name has something to with the Earth Stone, I think?" It was like he was speaking to himself. Beilis glanced around the island.

"Earth Stone? Where is that?" she asked the mer. He lifted a hand and pointing toward the peninsula outside of Raven Rock to the southwest. Beilis locked onto the aura of green light emitting from the mentioned structure. There was a bit of stirring happening around it, too, it seemed. The Dragonborn gave thanks to the Dunmer before hurrying off the ship and down the dock.

Beilis passed through an archway at the end of the dock, and her boots met a thick blanket of ash. It was sort of like sand, only her weight caused her to sink deeper into it. She heard a scoff from behind her, and she craned her head over her shoulder at a guard clad in strange clunky armor. He turned his head away from her once she looked at him. "Splendid. Another mouth to feed," he grumbled. Beilis furrowed her brow at the guard, biting her tongue as she turned and went on her way. Her stomach howled as she neared the marketplace, making her pause. There had to be an inn _somewhere_ in this town.

The surrounding buildings were... _different_. Layered plates resembled chitin of a chaurus bug, and they seemed to burrow underground as well. Her nose crinkled at the memory of the little buggers. None of them were labeled, either. However, a wasted Dunmer had come staggering out of the building to her right. It was safe to assume it was the tavern. She hung a right and pushed through the doors, a strong aroma of alcohol and fruit hitting her like a wall. It was much stronger than the stuff back home. Different. This whole island was different, but she could appreciate that.

The inside of the structure was circular, a staircase to a lower floor right in the middle of the room. Beilis descended the flight, finding the bar counter and some tables. The patrons seemed to be down there as well. "Welcome to the Retching Netch Cornerclub, milady!" A middle-aged Dunmer announced from behind the bar. Beilis flashed him a polite smile as she claimed a seat at one of the tables. She plucked the map out of her knapsack and unrolled it across the table. The edges were a bit tattered and stained, but she saw no reason to complain. Beilis looked back up and waved the barkeep down, ordering any meal that was bound to be filling.

Solstheim was quite small, she had to admit. There were a handful of locations marked on the map, including Raven Rock. There were a few mines, a place by the name of Tel Mithryn, and the Skaal Village further up north. If Beilis learned anything from her time venturing across Skyrim, it was that there were bound to be tombs and crypts littered about the island. She made a mental note to update the map as she went along. The woman hummed, propping her chin in her palm as she skimmed over the map again.

A sudden presence crowded up behind her, making her tense a bit. Beilis straightened up and craned her head over her shoulder, eyes then meeting the goggles of a chitin helmet. They were reflective; she could make out a bit of herself in the glass. The armored mer was propped oh so casually against the support pillar by the table. He loomed over Beilis, staring down at her, and she right back at him. "May I help you?" she asked.

"May I help _you?_ " he asked right back. There was a rasp in his voice. Gravelly, yes, but there was a twinge of cheekiness. Beilis could already deduce that this man was a smartass. Beilis blinked at him, rather confounded. She raised a brow at him. "You looked awfully perturbed here, slumped over that map. First time on Solstheim?" he quizzed.

"It is, yes. Though I fail to see why you care," Beilis commented, propping an arm over the back of the chair. The armored Dunmer let his head tilt to the side, giving her a cheeky look from behind his helmet. He unfolded his arms and extended a hand to her.

"Teldryn Sero. Blade for hire," he introduced. Beilis blinked yet again. _A sellsword,_ she realized. The woman glanced down at his gloved hand, reaching out with her own and grasping his hand. His body heat emitted strongly, even through the leather. "If you've got the coin, I'd be more than happy to accompany you across the harsh wastes of Solstheim," he proposed to her.

"You make a good case, _Teldryn Sero_. How much do I require for your services?" she asked, plopping her knapsack into her lap.

"We'll call it, say, five hundred?" Teldryn suggested. In a flash, a coin purse was tossed into his arms, which he caught just as quickly. He glanced down at the bulging pouch, then back at Beilis. She was smirking widely, yellow-hazel eyes twinkling with a bit of mischief.

"There's probably a bit more than five hundred in there, but you don't mind, do you?" she asked, raising a brow. It was a rhetorical question. Teldryn couldn't help but grin behind his helmet.

"You and I are going to get along _very well_."

The barkeep returned to Beilis's table, setting down a bowl of stew. It was chock full of diced horker and potatoes. The Dragonborn beamed and gave thanks to the barkeep, quickly pulling out a smaller coin purse and paying for her meal. She turned back to Teldryn as he moved around the table and sat across from the Nord. "We'll head out soon, but right now? I'm _starving_."

"Don't rush on my account," Teldryn assured her, waving a nonchalant hand as he leaned back in his chair. Beilis snatched up the spoon and began shoveling the stew into her mouth. The spellsword watched in silence. It was oddly amusing to watch people scarf down their food. He waited for Beilis to pause before speaking. "You arrived here from Skyrim, right?" he asked. The woman nodded, scooping more potatoes onto her spoon.

"I'm here on account of these masked people trying to kill me. Someone by the name of Miraak wants me dead, but I plan on finding him first," Beilis explained, stuffing herself with more stew. Teldryn raised a brow.

"Oh, _mystery_. Very, very interesting. Do you have any idea why this man wants you dead so badly?" he asked. Beilis gave pause to that question, slowly swallowing what was in her mouth. She could recall the cultists who came to her preaching against her being the Dragonborn; calling her a phony. The Nord hummed lowly.

"I think it's because I'm Dragonborn. The cultists called me a phony, and that the people were fools to believe it." Beilis tapped her spoon against the rim of the bowl. She stared down at the remaining stew in her bowl, now half-empty. She sighed and hurriedly finished off the rest of the stew. "Anyway, enough about me. Let's get going." Beilis got to her feet and slung her knapsack back over her shoulder. Teldryn followed right behind her as they left the inn. It was a five-minute walk to the peninsula outside of town. Raven Rock itself was strangely void of many folk; Beilis had noticed. It seemed the rest of the population was at the stone. They were either working on the bizarre structure weaving around the stone or praying to it. All of the Dunmer involved were droning a strange mantra.

_By night we reclaim_

_What by day was stolen_

_Far from ourselves_

_He grows ever near to us_

Beilis made a face and bit back a shiver. It was all so eerie. The Dunmer at the docks had said Miraak was connected with the stone, and Beilis could certainly see that. The behavior of these townsfolk was quite cult-like. Teldryn stood with his hands on his hips, looking out across the scene. "That isn't right," he commented. Beilis shook her head.

"You there—" Beilis was ripped from her thoughts, and she quickly turned to whoever was speaking to her, "—you two don't seem to be in quite the same state as the others. Very interesting." It was a middle-aged Dunmer clad in brown and gold robes. He had dark-ringed, tired eyes, and a snooty way of speaking. "Might I ask what you're doing here?" he quizzed.

"I'm looking for a _Miraak_. Do you know of him?" Beilis asked. The wizard was taken aback by the mention of the name, like the other mer.

"Mirrak, Miraak. I don't..." he trailed off, "... wait, no! I recall!" he exclaimed before his face fell. "Oh, but it makes very little sense. Miraak's been dead for thousands of years." Beilis just about went bug-eyed at that. The Nord wasn't unfamiliar with people persisting after death. Whether it was bu magic, a curse, or other means, she had her fair share of experiences with such things. Beilis shook her thoughts away.

"Well, what does that mean for me?" she asked the wizard, who only shrugged.

"I don't know, but it is quite fascinating, isn't it?" He turned back toward the stone and watched the others, practically brushing off Beilis's question. After a moment, he looked back at her. "I'm afraid I can't give you any answers, _but_ I have heard of an ancient temple of Miraak's somewhere near the center of the island. If I were you, I'd look there." He seemed to be done talking after that, zoning right back into observing the construction. Beilis quickly retrieved the map from her bag and unrolled it. There were hardly any temples and crypts already marked on the map, and it was unlikely any of them were Miraak's temple.

"It could be around here," Teldryn suggested, reaching over and gesturing to a formation of mountains close to the middle of Solstheim. They curved in a sort of semi-circle formation, plenty of blank space between them. it was a good place to start.

Beilis nodded slowly and rolled the map back up. "Then that's where we'll head first. Let's get going. The sooner I get this taken care of, the better."

"Ouch. Want to be rid of me so soon?" Teldryn folded his arms over his chest, a hand patting the armor plate just over his heart. Beilis flashed him a look, but she had to grin.

"When did I say that? It's my first time on this island, and I'd love to fully explore it and fill my map up. I would prefer to keep my guide while I do so," Beilis pointed out, waggling the rolled-up parchment as she walked past the spellsword and back towards town. That earned a proper chuckle from him, and he jogged after the woman.

"Oh, yeah. We'll get along _just_ swimmingly, Dragonborn." Beilis was taken aback. She peered over her shoulder at the mer.

"Just Beilis. Please," she requested. There was a twinge of a true plea in her voice, and Teldryn fell quiet for a moment.

"Apologies... _Beilis_."

The trek through Raven Rock was mostly quiet, as was passing through the Bulwark into the wide-open wastes of the rest of the island. "Were you born in Solstheim, Teld?" Beilis asked, growing bored with the silence. She glanced at an abandoned farmhouse on her left. The armored Dunmer scoffed.

"Oh, no. I grew up in the city of Blacklight in Morrowind." His head tilted up toward the sky as he reminisced. Then he looked back over at Beilis. "If you ever find the opportunity, you should visit there. It's _spectacular_ ," he suggested. The Dragonborn hummed and nodded.

"I'll make a note of that," she promised him. "Well, on one condition—" she turned back toward Teldryn, "—you be my guide there, too."

Teldryn narrowed his eyes at Beilis through his goggles. Another snicker. "We shall see, sera. We shall see."


End file.
